The Right Hand
by Scorpio's Storyteller
Summary: A Voldemort Enthusiast gets a small chance to meet the fabled Right Hand of the Dark Lord.
1. CASSIUS

**JULY NINTH, NINETEEN NINETY-FOUR**

I was a little girl when I realized I had a fascination with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters. While everyone shivered in their houses in fear, I would be sitting outside, hoping that they would come knocking at the neighbor's door, or perhaps if I was lucky, mine. I even had a list of people who were in the Inner Circle. However, it was childish of me to hope they would come to my door, and childish of me to assume they would take me into their ranks. Childish of me to think I would enjoy it. However, as I grew up, I found I still was interested in it. Any scrap of information someone could tell me about the days of fear under Lord Voldemort – and yes, I say his name without fear in my head, just not aloud – was like Candy to me. I became the head researcher in the entire field of that war. I was being conscripted to teach people how to make sure such a thing is not repeated. Voldemort's patterns (very hard to track), possible followers (I had lists of them), anything they asked of me. And it was in this way that I learned of Cassius Lestrange. A friend in the Ministry spoke of him when he was wondering if I thought I knew who the right hand man of Voldemort was. Of course, I named off who I had suspicious of – Cygnus Black was always the man I thought was important, perhaps that Vampire woman who died by Crouch's hand a couple decades back. The guy ended up laughing at me. Of course, I was very insulted. He told me those people begged to be more important to Voldemort. The man I was looking for was at the near bottom of my list. Cassius Lestrange.

"But… the man had been deemed harmless. He _is_ harmless. Especially now!" I had argued.

My friend had shrugged at me, picking my brain. "Who said the second in command had to be a ruthless blood sucking killer?" He had said, amused at my shock. "Voldemort did enough of that. No, his second was the one who did everything Voldemort didn't do – business stuff, research, giving the Death Eater's assignments and making sure they did their job. That sort of thing." Of course, I had immediately wanted to know how he knew. "Oh, he's been getting better, and mumbling about old times lately. Let that slip when someone was wondering about his old jobs. You could probably ask to see him." The idea was juicy. A man, albeit, a sixty-eight year old man, was alive, not driven completely insane by Azkaban, and nearly coherent enough to talk about what actually happened. I practically jumped into St. Mungo's, asking for a chance to speak to him – Cassius. One of the only survivors of the original inner ring of the Dark Lord. The only one that could maybe tell me a thing or two about it. Of course, he was still completely insane. But not in the way the one's at Azkaban were. Cassius had been taken care of, not tortured. I knew for a fact his family had paid Mungo's a severe amount of money just to give him his own comfortable chambers. He was locked up at all times, but had been seen as "not a threat to humanity" for the last ten years. Just to himself, sometimes.

It was this day. This glorious rainy day that I was finally able to talk to him. Cassius. His name had been ringing in my head for the past few days. I was met at the front entrance by a very tired looking witch. Her hair, which was probably proper and tight that morning, was loose and frizzy. Her surgery robes were off center. Heck, even her eyes looked like they had been losing touch with reality since this morning. "You are Ariana?" She asked me, her voice quiet but stern. "Yes. I'm here to talk to Cassius?" She hid a mocking laugh. "This way," was all she said to me ever again. The rest of my visits were conducted in complete silence. It was a long walk to Cassius' rooms. They were quite a bit down in the basement, as if they feared any closer to the other insane and people would start dying. It seemed to me as we went down in the elevator, the woman beside me became more anxious. I was as well, but in an excited way. I even had my quill (which would write for me, all I had to do was listen) out and my large amount of paper. When we reached the near bottom of the place, the doors opened, and I heard beautiful music and flashes of red. The woman nodded for me to go, and shocked I stepped into … what looked like the most beautiful rooms I had ever seen. I was in a state room. Deep mahogany book shelves lined the left side of the room, with a elegant desk made of the same mahogany gracing the back wall. On the other side, huge and expensive looking paintings that held colors to match the deep red of the room adorned the walls. A huge mahogany fireplace (with a nice and gentle fire making gentle crackle noises in the background) was in the dead center of the wall, it's great mantle holding small and old photographs of what I guessed were family. Around this fireplace were huge lounge seats – made of mahogany and a very comfortable looking deep red velvet cushions. I touched them as I walked on my way to the mantelpiece, curious about the photos. They were soft.

On the mantelpiece itself, a beautiful picture of a blond woman took the right hand side, the place of honor. She was radiant, her blond hair blowing back gently in a breeze, brown eyes admiring the world around her. She saw me and gave me a sort of smile, gently pulling out the lines she may have had in her deep blue outfit. This elegant woman then, with a poise I envied immediately, wandered into the next photograph, where two boys sat, playing in the sand at some old and forgotten beach. One was a little older than the other, and he acknowledged what I guessed now to be his mother's presence. The other, ran to her arms, yelling "Momma!" as loud as he could. I guessed this must be Cassius' family. The woman, in all her radiance, was probably his wife, Octavia. The boys were probably Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, who in my books, were legends. Rudolphus had even married Voldemort's only future female member – Bellatrix. Lucky man, I guess. So poised already as a boy of about eight. The next photo over showed two young men. One was quite dark, yet very handsome, and the other equally handsome, yet very light. Almost complete opposites of each other, and they both seemed to be sharing an equally hilarious joke. I wondered who they were, and something above the mantelpiece, something I should have noticed long before I had gotten there, caught my eye. It was this... black screen. Nothing on it, just a screen of complete blackness. I stared at it with a curious look on my face, and suddenly a picture popped up on it. I jumped, and backed right into something that wasn't there before – a man.

I turned around very quickly, and found myself staring up – way up – into the very blue eyes of a much older version of the blond young man in the picture. Cassius Lestrange. Then, the man beside him must have been –

"Tom Riddle. Yes." His voice was quiet, and had a creepy gentleness to it. "How did you know that's what I was thinking?" I immediately asked of him. He raised his eyebrow, a perfectly formed eyebrow, odd on a man in his sixties, as if to ask my why on earth he would tell me that. He shook his head and backed up to couch, letting his slender, and well taken care of body slide into the largest of his lounge sofas. "It's a TV." He said simply. "What?" I said with after trying to comprehend what he had said. He pointed to the screen, now showing a room in what I recognized as Hogwarts. "A TV. A little screen that will show me whatever I want it to, if I know of it." He said simply. "I had it made for me a few years ago. Takes my mind off of things, makes me feel less cut off from the world." He inspected something on his hand, which looked completely clean to me, and didn't say a word more. "Oh." I said simply after a moment of silence, and stood awkwardly in front of the mantle place, suddenly questioning my foolishness at this idea.

After a long silence, Cassius seemed to remember my presence. "Are you not going to sit?" he asked me, waving to a love seat in front of him. In an uncomfortable manner, I shuffled my way over, sitting on the edge awkwardly. I waited, trying not to let my feet bounce with impatience, and trying not to just simply stare at how young he seemed. For an insane man in his sixties, Cassius seemed to be living fairly well. Not only such amazing and wonderful quarters, but his person as well. He had an athletic build, though he was a little on the thin sides. His face seemed smooth, not really lined like my mother's was starting to become. Sure, he had crow's feet on the outside of his wide eyes, and laugh lines – if you could call them that – definitely appeared whenever he grimaced at whatever it was that was bothering him on his hand. I still couldn't see anything. The only thing that showed huge amount of change from the photograph on the mantelpiece was his hair. It had gone completely white. And not in the creepy washed out way where you could see the scalp underneath like you could on some men, just completely, wonderfully, thick and white.

"When you are quite done admiring my odd manner of looking young, do remember that I'm in a hospital which keeps me in almost excellent health." He looked at me sharply, and out of automatic fear I looked at the floor. There was a heavy sigh, and suddenly I felt a weight next to me. I looked slightly to the left to see shiny black shoes and a tailored black pant leg. That moment was very uncomfortable. The gentle voice came again. "I hear you want to ask me about my life. Now, I must ask. What exactly did I do to have this little thing get a crush on me?" I jumped at the last bit and saw simply a quizzical eyebrow staring back. He was only being half serious, yet at the same time it seemed like a sixty-odd year old man was nearly successfully flirting with me. I stumbled over words for a moment, and then finally came out with "I heard you were the right-hand man of Vold-" His eyebrows went up. I stumbled again. "That guy." I pointed shamefully at the photograph of the two of them. After a second, Cassius gave a bit of a chuckle.

"Yes. I was. Friends since childhood. Since the first moment we met on the train to Hogwarts." I nodded, not really seeing the Dark Lord as an eleven year old, neither really this man beside me, perfectly comfortable at making me uncomfortable. "Come along," he said suddenly, standing and stretching. "I want dinner." He lazed off into another room, and I followed him, assuming that I was going to be stepping into a kitchen. I found myself very surprised to actually see just a small table surrounded by comfortable looking, deep red chairs. And yes, the table was mahogany. Bravely, I asked "I'm guessing your favorite color is red?" "Yes." He answered immediately for once. "I was always pissed that the Gryffindors could have such a majestic color, but I believe I was one of the few people who thought that. Anyway, have a seat, we'll have some dinner and I can tell you what you would like to know. Will take some time though." I placed my quill on a piece of parchment, finally releasing them from my death grip of a hold, and put them to the side. The quill was poised on the parchment, waiting to write. It started to scratch away as soon as I spoke next. "It's a long story." He said simply, looking sidelong at me and then pressing… nothing. On the wall. And speaking to it. "OI. PEOPLE BELLOW THE FLOOR. FOOD." I stared at him, and horridly enough, my jaw dropped in shock a little. What was he doing? Then I remembered – right. The man is crazy. However, maybe not. Just like in Hogwarts, food popped up on the table. I guessed that "the people below the floor" were probably house elves, could hear him shouting, and just sent up food when he did. At least, that's the only explanation I had for it.

Surprisingly enough, there was a spot for me. I was being treated to mashed potatoes, seasonal vegetables, and a weird tiny looking chicken. "Quail." Cassius said to me as he sat next to me, and picked up his fork and knife. "So," he looked at my quill going away in the background. "Where should I begin?" I shrugged a little. "Sorry, not a biographer," I said, tasting the Quail… which happened to taste just like a tiny chicken. "Perhaps where you want?"

"Hmph." Cassius sat and thought for a while, I guess having expected to be answering questions, not just saying whatever came to his head. "Well, I guess I should give you a bit of past," he said after a few mouthfuls of food. "My parents were French, and while my mother was pregnant with me, they moved to England. This is where most of the better families of purebloods are, you see. You are pureblood are you not?" He looked at me very seriously. I nodded quickly. My mother had been a half-blood actually, but he didn't really need to know that. "Good. You can be trusted. I was born in this very hospital on January 6, 1926. Tom, as I'm guessing you are much more interested in, was born somewhere off in the middle of nowhere on December 31, 1926." I tried to hide my surprise, not expecting to get information on Tom so early in the story. "Don't be foolish." Cassius said easily. "Everyone prefers to know about Tom, but seeing as you are here for me, I will tell you of us both. Our childhoods are mainly irrelevant. Mine was going through stupid amounts of schooling and the birth of my brother, and Tom's was spending lonely times in an orphanage, waiting for something interesting to happen. It wasn't until – AH." He suddenly grabbed his head, and then stumbled out of his chair, landing on the floor. Then, he grabbed at his arm, hissing in pain. I was immediately to my feet, always the good citizen.

"GET IT OFF." He was yelling loudly on the floor, tears entering in his eyes. "GET IT OFF ME!" He ripped at the dinner jacket he was wearing, and I noticed a light went off on the wall behind him. I dropped to the floor and helped him rip off his jacket as he screamed on the ground. There, on his upper arm, pulsing beneath his shirt, was the mark. The death eater's mark. I had always thought they were on the lower arm. Suddenly I was grabbed by the collar, and was brought very close to Cassius' face as he hissed at me. "The first version of the mark. Get if OFF. It burns every time he moves, every time he walks, every time his thoughts are turned nasty. He's killed tonight, I know it." During this last little bit, nurses came flooding into the room, explaining the beeper on the wall. One of them landed right behind Cassius and started to pry his hands off my neck while another nurse pulled at my back to get me away. "Another day," she kept on saying, as the other nurse kept on consoling Cassius on the floor. "It's alright, Cassius, he's not alive. He's not here. He's not killing anyone." But they hadn't been here a few seconds ago, they hadn't seen the mark go bright as I had. Something was ailing Cassius. He wasn't just crazy. Something had made him that way… but I couldn't ask him today. It would have to wait. I scheduled the next meeting as soon as I could, a time in August.


	2. MARK

**AUGUST TWENTY-SECOND, NINETEEN NINETY-FOUR**

On my next visit, I walked into Cassius' rooms to find him perched forward in his seat, staring hungrily at that thing called the "TV". On it, the Quidditch World Cup was just finishing. He beckoned to me to sit next to him, his eyes not tearing away from the TV. When I sat, a single finger came up, I suppose telling me to be quiet. I really had never had an interest in Quidditch, so I simply watched, really having no idea what was going on. Apparently the game was almost over anyway, as five minutes later a whole bunch of people jumped up and cheered in the stands, and Cassius leaned back with an odd frown on his face. I wanted to ask why he was frowning, but I thought that maybe his favorite team hadn't won. Not really important. Most Quidditch freaks screamed up something evil when their favorite team didn't win. I supposed I should have found myself lucky that Cassius was not one of these men. After a moment he turned to me, a big bowl of popcorn suddenly in his hands.

"Snack?" he said simply. The nurse who had brought my down the stairs was different from the last. She said they had given him a drug which made him, well calmer and generally happier. They called it an "up" drug. She had also apologized to me for his reaction last time. "Sometimes his mind reminds him of moments in history when his arm would go off, and he would see something the dark lord had done." She had said. "They apparently made his mark different than the others, so Cassius could always share in the Dark Lord's triumphs. Sickening isn't it?" I had simply nodded sadly as an answer. Anyway, Cassius was apparently going to be happy and perky for my entire visit, unless something manages to really upset him. They said I should get a good story out of him today. And apparently popcorn. "Yes please." I said with a small smile, taking a handful and slowly eating through it. "Good. I like popcorn. All people who like popcorn can be trusted by me." This new Cassius was slightly bothering. Too happy. I wanted the old one back, even if he did break down and yell at me at some point.

"Cassius?" He looked at me quickly, eyebrows raised innocently as if to say "Hm? Yes? What is it?" I chose my words carefully. "Did you see… Tom killing a woman last time?" He frowned at me a little, and then recognition dawned on his face, and his perky energy seemed to slowly wane away. "Yes. I did. Did you find her? In the news?" I shrugged. "Sort of. I heard whispers of a woman being killed, and them suspecting a house-elf or something." He nodded and frowned. "That's usually how it is, framing people." I stared at him funny, not understanding. I had never known the Dark Lord to let anyone else take the pride of what he had done. "I'm getting ahead of myself," Cassius said. "Where's that weird quill and parchment of yours?" I took them out, and poised the quill on top of the parchment, as I had before. He stared at it for a moment, deemed it an oddity, and then looked to be thinking. "Eat that popcorn. It's apparently a never ending bowl. I want to see if that's true." I ate, and he thought. It seemed once you got to know this man you would pretty much do anything to keep him in a happy state. It took a week for the bruises on my neck to go away from last time. My boyfriend had not been impressed.

Cassius thought for a while, and I loudly munched on popcorn, causing my quill to write "munch, munch, munch" over and over on the page. Finally he got up and started to pace. "I told you Tom lived most of his childhood in an orphanage, yes?" I nodded, mouth full of popcorn. This bowl was indeed never-ending. "Well, just before the school year started in the year oh – 1938, Albus Dumbledore went to go and offer Tom a place at Hogwarts. Of course, to any orphan, the idea of being removed from such a horrid place to go and learn magic was a gift really. Tom took it up immediately, and this is where I came to meet him, on the Train to Hogwarts. He was really curious about everything. But the nice thing about it is when I explained something to him once, he remembered it, and vice versa. We work well that way; however, a slight difference is I have a slightly eidetic memory. He does not, but his memory is still very good. It was on that train that the first moments of what would be a very long leeching to come."

I found a moment to interrupt. "Leech?" "Yes." He said simply. "We were friends of a sort, but it was more friends out of admirable necessity. I've always been a sort of follower, I prefer to be given orders, not have to make them, and I looked up to Tom as if he were a god. I leeched off his power. Tom is the opposite. He is a born leader, and loves attention. He loved the fact I would always give him all the attention he could ever need. That make sense?" I nodded. "OK. May I go on?" I thought for a moment, "Did you like it?" "He was my life," Cassius gave a big sigh, "And he was my undoing. After his death, I went mad. And I'm still mad, as you well know." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I couldn't live without him, I went mad trying to. I could always see him, and hear his voice. My wife… god. I can't imagine what I did to her in that time. But she's the reason I'm here. And she was the one I should have put attention on. Perhaps… had I actually showed her that I did love her, allowed her to come into my life, perhaps I wouldn't have gone mad. Tom and Octavia hated each other, you know. I… was a fool." He went and stroked Octavia's face on the photograph. He muttered "too late…" and then stared at the floor. "May I go on, now?"

"Yes."

He started his pacing again. "We were both separated into Slytherin, and immediately, we were the top and the talk of the class. I was part of this teacher named Slughorn's Slug Club. It was for famous people really. You can imagine Tom hated me a bit for that. I never really went to the meetings, just to make him happy. Anyway, in our second year, Tom learned that there was this Chamber somewhere in the castle. They called it the Chamber of Secrets. And god, he looked for it so hard that he actually found it within the first month of being at school. We just couldn't figure out how to open it. It was in one of the girl's bathrooms. Stupid place for it, and don't ask me how he found it. I have no idea. Our next year, two important people come to Hogwarts. The first is Albus Dumbledore – oh don't give me that look girl, he was just simply a representative for the ministry before – to teach Transfiguration. The second was a half giant named Hagrid." I frowned. "You know him, don't you." "Yeah, he's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts." Cassius nodded. "…He's a death eater?"

Cassius let out a bark of laughter. "Merlin no, he's just slightly important in the story. You see, the next year, what would have been mine and Tom's fourth year, Hagrid somehow managed to acquire an Acromantula – oh, an ever growing spider, if you will. They can get to be a couple of stories high. Very dangerous, but they take forever to grow to those heights. Anyway, Hagrid had one, and it only grew to be about the size of his hand before it escaped – which was … mainly my fault. You see, I knew Hagrid had it. Watched him smuggle it in. I was everywhere in those days, very quiet, no one really paid any attention to me unless I wanted them to." He looked off into space for a few moments, as if remembering something. He then looked back at me, and came to sit down with me on the couch, grabbing the popcorn bowl and leaning back, grabbing my arm and pulling me back with him. "This is comfier, and I don't want to stare at the back of your head." Seemed the pills they gave him were still in effect.

"Now, to give you some history that you would know about, that December, on the seventh I'm pretty sure, Pearl Harbor happened. Ah yes, I see that look of recognition on your face, well, they made us all stand in honor of the soldiers and such, and Tom thought it was funny. Not the assembly, but the actual war itself. Served him right to actually think something was that horribly funny, but the bad part was I thought it was funny as well. Gives you an idea of how twisted the guy is. Well, fifth year, Tom was made a prefect. A lot of people liked him, and he was kind of a teacher's pet, so it was expected. I applauded him for that, and would usually go on rounds with him. That year, in about May I think it was, Tom figured out how to open the Chamber." I intervened excitedly "The Chamber of Secrets." "Yes!" Cassius said, exasperated, "Keep your socks on girl. Or take them off actually, I really couldn't care. Just stop jumping to conclusions. Thankfully, I was not with him on this trip. Never really could speak snake. Thank you for just looking at me questioningly. There was a basilisk inside, and Tom, who was a parseltongue – the language of the snake – was the only one who could speak that. As a joke I guess, he taught it to only go after Muggleborns, and for two glorious weeks, Muggles were dropping completely stone-like left right and center. Until Myrtle. Myrtle was technically the first person ever killed." There was a silence.

"Who was he?"

"Oh I don't know. And she. Some girl who was always being made fun of. Never knew her all that well. Anyway, she died in the bathroom where the basilisk comes out. Looked right at its eyes, which is fatal. Tom and I decided that maybe we should close up the Chamber, for another time. However, we needed to blame it on someone. I suggested Hagrid, and his Acromantula. Tom took care of that, and Hagrid was expelled. The big spidey disappeared; I could care less about it. They kept him on as gamekeeper. Dumbledore begged for it, I guess. An act of compassion. And that was what I thought would be the end of all this mess. I was wrong. Tom showed up at my house that summer, holding some ring and full of blood, and bragging about the murder of his treacherous family, and how he was able to frame it on his uncle Morfin. This next bit, I'm not sure I should have said it anymore, but I'm sure it gave him an idea or two. I told him "Wouldn't it be great if we didn't have to frame it on anyone? Just have the power to and execute who we like?" And that I believe is one of the key moments in creating the man everyone knows today as 'He Who Shall Not be Named.'" He suddenly itched at his arm in discomfort, where the mark was, and then left it alone. "Does it bother you?" I asked gently. "Sometimes. Not really. Just when he does something." Cassius said absentmindedly, always sure he wasn't dead. Completely insane.

"Can I see it?"

He stared at me curiously for a long moment. It was very difficult to hold that gaze. It was a steady, and almost harsh gaze. Not as if it knew everything about me, but all the things I didn't want him to know. I thought for a moment that he was probably just as experienced at Occlumens and Legilimens as the Dark Lord was. He'd have to be, it would be important. I tried to press simple curiosity in my mind. Of course his eyebrows just raised at me again. Finally he sighed, and started to undo the buttons of his shirt. Apparently it was too high to just roll one's sleeve up. "Why did you guys put it on the upper arm instead of the lower." Cassius shrugged. "It was the first one ever made. I wanted it on my upper arm. Just seemed, I don't know, cooler there. And less likely to get caught." He pulled his shirt off, and I made sure every single ounce of my attention was just on the mark on his arm. The tattoo. It looked a little bit different from the ones that I had seen before, and from what I knew of it, other properties then the other ones. Bragging properties. Cassius didn't bother to put his shirt back on when I was done. He just seemed to be comfortable in his own skin, I guess. "Move on?" I suggested. He nodded.

"In our sixth year at Hogwarts, we bugged Slughorn about something called 'Horcruxes'. Tom was more interested in it then I was, or Cygnus Black, who decided to tag along. He was part of general "people we liked" category. Horcruxes are when you break a soul into bits, and put them into objects. One of Tom's dreams was always to live forever. It was difficult, but he actually managed to do it, and somewhere out there there is a diary that holds a chunk of the soul of Tom Riddle. No, don't go looking for it. You are staying out of this mess." He frowned at me and held my gaze until I agreed not to go looking for it. It was odd. He was sort of protecting me in that way. It was also odd that the right hand of Voldemort was telling me not to get in the mess… that was his own. I guess he didn't want to see me in here as a fellow "inmate". "Now," he continued, "This is also the year I learned I was to marry Octavia Burke. It was common then, betrothals. I didn't think much of it." He waved to the mantle. "She was beautiful, from a good pure family, and Tom hated her immediately. All around, a pretty good wife to have." I frowned. "Because Tom hated her?" He nodded. "Yup. I call it jealousy. It was pretty amusing, but he never really did have to worry about it. I wish I had actually made it so he did, but I only realized that about myself a good ten years ago." He shrugged, looked sad for a moment, and then continued. "In our last year, Tom became Head Boy. As a joke, we all – the people we had deemed worthy and myself – called him "Lord Voldemort". It was the name he'd go by when he finally started to wipe away the unworthy. It kind of caught on, as you can tell." He hissed, and rubbed his arm, and then stared out into space. Deep into space.

"What is it?" No answer, just staring out into space. "Cassius?" I looked to his arm, it was glowing. I took a hand out and shook his shoulder. It was very cold. "Cassius?" I was alarmed then, as he wasn't doing anything. Five minutes I shook him, until finally, an ice cold grip grabbed my arm, and Cassius was with me again. "What was that?" I demanded of him. Cassius quickly grabbed the thing that turned on the TV, and flicked it on. There, over the stadium where they were playing Quidditch not a few hours ago, was the Dark Mark in the sky. I squeaked. "Voldemort?" Cassius shook his head. "Crouch." He said simply. "Who?" I asked. "An old follower just trying to scare people. Rowdiness really. It works like a hot damn, but it's not Tom." He shook his head and turned the TV off. "If it were Tom it would have hurt." He still held my hand, and I could feel warmth flowing back into it. We stayed silent for a moment, unmoving.

"You'd best go now." Cassius said, dropping his hand off mine. I nodded, grabbed my things and stood to go. "Thank you," I said as I called the elevator. "No Arianna," He said simply. The elevator arrived and I stepped in. "Thank you." He said as the doors closed. How could such a man be everything you didn't want him to be?


	3. REALITY

**JUNE TWENTY-FOURTH, NINETEEN NINETY-FOUR**

I couldn't get to St. Mungo's in a long time. It was so busy, what with that school having the triwizard tournament on and everyone being fearful of the Death Eaters on the rise. I was so busy. Finally, however, on the last night of the tournament, I was able to get out and see Cassius again. He was never far from my thoughts, especially how lonely he was. I was able to learn that his wife, Octavia, she separated him shortly after he went insane and was put in St. Mungo's. It must have been his kids who paid for the small palace he lived in, and visited him occasionally before they were put in Azkaban or died. Poor guy, he was all alone now. The elevator ride down was silent. No one had come with me, no one had really acknowledged my presence. I didn't mind if no one wanted to come down with me, though I kind of wondered why. Was it out of fear? Loathing? Discomfort? I could never tell with hospital people. They are trained to take anything.

When I opened the door, there was Cassius looking as normal as ever, all in white today, sitting on the couch and watching the fire crackle in his fireplace. I was grateful for it, as I was getting the shivers recently. "Thank goodness," I said as I flopped down into place beside him. "I fear I'm catching on with a cold." Cassius regarded me strangely for a moment. "You thank goodness?" I nodded. "Queer." he said after a moment. There was a silence as we both watched the fire crackle, both of our feet up on the coffee table warming up. "I'm guessing the last bit of the story, before my stupid insanity fell in, is due yes?" Cassius asked me quietly, eyes not leaving the flames. I nodded, pretty sure he could see the movement in his peripheral vision. While he thought on where to start, I put my quill and paper out, as I always did, and waited. It had been a year or so, I expected one long pause before that quill would start scratching away.

The pause was so long, I jumped a bit when he finally began. "When we graded – oh calm down girl, you'd think a gun went off – Tom tried to become a teacher at Hogwarts. He was turned down. I don't really know why that happened, but I do know why Tom did it. Firstly, then he would be right next to the chamber, and be able to open it whenever he wanted to. Secondly, he would be close to all those ideas we had for horcruxes, and ease to get at them. You see, we wanted to make sure those horcruxes would last for eons if we needed them to, so we would go after things like a treasured artifact, or many other important items. The diary was a trial really. I kept that safe, until I went mad. Then I think one of the Malfoy's took it, I have no idea. I hope so. Good people, the Malfoys. Anyway, that didn't happen, and Tom went to work at Borgin and Burkes. I had to go work for my father, as was intended for me, to be his right hand – I was everyone's right hand, wasn't I – at the Department of International Magical Cooperation in the Ministry, where I was to take his place as the Head of Department when he retired. Some people didn't like that, but I won them over, seeing as that is one of my more interesting talents. It was the perfect job for me, I could go in, learn practically anything I wanted to that was of use with no questions asked, walk out and repeat it with my wonderful memory in perfection to Tom. I was stupendously useful." There was a sigh, and Cassius continued. "A couple years later, Tom killed Hepiziah Smith, somehow managing to make it look like her house elf had done it. He took Slytherin's Locket, and Hufflepuff's Cup, which both went into my care in my own state home. And to your knowledge, Tom Riddle disappears for a decade or so."

"That didn't happen?" I asked quietly. "No." Cassius said with a snort. "You just all have very bad looking skills. He was everywhere, and he was here all the time. He just traveled abroad a lot. It slowed down in the early 1950's…." Again, the long silence. "What about you? You didn't go away for a decade." Cassius stared at me a little. "You're suddenly interested in me?" I nodded, having always been interested in him to begin with. One of his eyebrows cocked at me, and he continued with his story. "Well, there isn't really a lot to tell. I was married to Octavia, we had our first son, Rudolphus. Father retired not too long after I was getting the hang of everything down and I was made the head of that department. In a couple of years I got this." He put his hand over his darkmark, and then looked up at me. Immediately he recoiled. "Wha-" I was startled.

"You're... spontaneously bleeding." He stared at my neck. My hands went flying to it, bewildered. I was bleeding. All the way down my shirt, pooling on the couch. I was bleeding everywhere. Cassius just stared at me, repeating "spontaneously bleeding" over and over. I was panicking, trying to lap it up, trying to figure out where it was I was bleeding from. Then I felt my heart starting to weaken. I was bleeding too fast! Where was the wound? Where was the-

Suddenly I had no use of my arms. I was weak, though completely painless. Before me, as I slumped backwards and slid down the couch, Cassius went into shock. Slowly my eyes closed...

**REALITY, JUNE TWENTY-FOURTH, NINETEEN NINETY-FOUR**

My eyes opened to see two of the nurses standing over my body, I could just see them, just, as my eyes were hazed over. It was the nurse that always looked off center, and the really kind one who was a muggle. I hated her. She was staring at the frizzled nurse I had never cared for bewilderingly. I had seen enough. I closed my eyes.

"You're just going to let him die?" the mud blood called out, screaming uselessly at miss frizzle.

"Yes. He's terrorized my crew enough. Look at my arms! You can take away the guy's wand but you sure as hell can't take away any of his weapons." I assumed she was talking about all the times I had gouged my hands into their arms, trying to get their filthy hands off me.

"What about the writing on the walls?" Muggle asked.

"'He has risen?' oh it'll probably be there forever. I can get that new girl to try and clean up this room, but there's blood everywhere. Funny. His hero rises, and this guy kills himself. Luckily for him he's been hallucinating since the second he put that pen thing in his neck. Go on, take it out, let him attempt to rest in peace, if there is such a thing for his kind." This was it. My release from my constant hallucinations of Tom. Finally.

"I... I couldn't do it." Mudblood coward.

"Then get that girl down here! Where is she?"

A very timid voice came out from behind them. A voice I recognized and a voice I shouldn't. "Here, ma'am." I dared a hazed look through my eyes, even though it caused me pain to move. There, standing before me, was the girl I had hallucinated about.

"His eyes are open..." Said Arianna, staring at me sadly.

"He's been doing that for the last hour. He isn't glaring at you, means he can't see you." Miss frizzle speaks wrong again, as usual. "Pull that pen out girl. Put him out of his misery." I could see Arianna's face fill with horror. She leaned down, and pulled the pin out of my neck.

**TIME OF DEATH: TWELVE THIRTY TWO AM, JUNE TWENTY-FOURTH, NINETEEN NINETY-FOUR**


End file.
